Busted
by OneWanderingMind
Summary: After a brief interlude in a bathroom stall resulting in Alison's name screamed a bit too loudly, humor ensues. Emison.


**So I needed to write a tiny bit of happy in the midst of a very angst filled chapter of "I Should Have". I threw it together today and I figured I would share it! Ali and Em are pulled directly from "I Should Have", with a few years tacked on.**

**Rated M because it's mature for all the right reasons. You've been warned.**

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><p>"Fuck Alison!"<p>

"Shut up," Alison scolded in a hushed voice into Emily's ear. The brunette crushed her bottom lip between her teeth strangling on a whimper. Her wife had her pinned against a tile wall mercilessly caressing the thick seam of her jeans between her thighs. "Someone's going to hear you."

Emily smacked her head against the wall of a handicapped stall choking back grunts and moans the blonde relentlessly yanked from her lungs as two fingers cruelly dangled the opportunity for release. Alison knew there was no clothing shielding the throbbing clit and dripping slit from the denim. "Please just get it over with," she begged hoarsely. She rocked herself into her wife's hand thankful for every blissful sensation as the coarse fabric scraped against her.

After tracing the shell of Emily's right ear with her tongue, the blonde mocked, "Get it over with?" Her lips grazed the skin below the ear, one spot which never failed to jerk out an incredibly arousing reaction. "That's romantic."

"Fu—" Emily's throat contracted to prevent the rest of the expletive from escaping. With both hands clawing at her wife's back, she tried again much quieter, "We're in a bathroom stall in a high school. There's nothing—shit—romantic about this."

Pleased with the urgency lacing Emily's murmurings, the teasing woman walked her fingers up to the button of the dark jeans as she said, "Well then," she popped the metal out of the buttonhole, "What do you want from me?"

The brunette's body trembled as the warmth previously confined to the skin beneath her wife's fingers trickled up her abdomen to her cheeks and rippled through her thighs. "Fucking unzip my pants," she demanded as her hands clamped onto the blonde's cheeks. "Like right now," she breathed before her lips hungrily chomped at Alison's, which were painted with satisfaction.

Alison's fingers flicked at the small pull of the zipper as she gasped at the pain shooting through her bottom lip from her wife's teeth biting down to aggressively urge her onward. As much as she wanted to taunt the woman verbally as well as physically, Emily's fervent kisses prevented any vocal response. It was the brunette who unclasped their lips and whispered heavily with her forehead resting against the blonde's, "Just make me come, Ali."

Alison stifled a small sound of desire. Emily knew exactly how to get what she wanted. Her fingers lazily unzipped the jeans before pressing against the small swollen nub.

"Oh god. Thank you!" Emily smashed her left hand over her mouth when she couldn't suppress her cry of pleasure. Knowing the woman was seconds from release, Alison roughly skidded her fingers over her clit and dipped two finger tips between her folds. With each pass over her clit, she dove into the wet chasm and curled her thin fingers.

"Mmmmm," the sound vibrated against Emily's palm. "Shhhhmmmt."

Alison recognized the muffled curse and purred, "What was that?" Emily didn't dare move her hand to respond. Her wise decision was rewarded with a single deep thrust.

"Alllmmm," Emily groaned her wife's name and she yanked the blonde's forehead to hers.

When the familiar tiny squeals thumped against Emily's palm, Alison glided her tongue against the back of her hand and nipped at the trembling knuckles. Wanting the blonde's tongue against her own, the brunette removed her hand. "Shit, Ali. Don't stop. Please don't stop." Emily pleaded before she smashed their lips together once again. Their tongues barely touched before Alison's fingers took another deliberately forceful plunge that tipped her wife over the edge.

"Alison!" she yelped parting their lips and shuddering. Before another moan could escape her lips, Alison's left hand slammed over her mouth while her fingers gently rolled around massaging the tight walls pulsing around her fingers. The brunette's nearly silenced murmurings tickled Alison's palm. Emily's knees buckled and her hands flattened against the tile hoping to maintain her balance.

Almost instantly, a loud voice erupted from several yards away, "Fucking gross!" The shriek was quickly followed by the door swinging closed.

The blonde swore as her hand jerked from her wife's pants, "Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck."

With her chest still heaving, Emily nudged Alison back a step to catch her breath as she muttered, "Chill out. We're fine."

"We just got caught," the blonde tilted her head upward, sighed and swiveled to face the stall door. "It's like high school all over again."

Zipping and buttoning her pants, Emily chuckled, "You screwed girls in bathroom stalls in high school?"

Two tanned, toned arms wrapped around her waist from behind as Alison quipped, "Oh and you didn't?"

"I definitely did not," Emily plopped her chin on the blonde's right shoulder, "I was shy in the streets and in the sheets." Her thumbs fiddled with the top edge of Alison's panties she easily discovered beneath the cotton dress.

Alison turned her head to peck the jokingly pouting woman on the cheek while tugging the roaming fingers from her dress, "Poor, poor Em. You didn't get to have sex in dirty bathroom stalls."

"My high school experience was definitely lacking." The woman reached past her wife and unlatched the door.

"What are you doing?!" Alison gasped as she backed into Emily's chest forcing them further back into the stall.

"Umm," Emily pushed the woman forward, "leaving the bathroom."

"What if they're waiting outside for us?" Alison frantically predicted struggling against Emily's shoves.

Emily laughed finally forcing her amusingly worried wife from the stall, "They're long gone. I'm pretty sure they don't want to know who we are."

"You're not the one whose name got screamed so loud half the building could hear it."

Emily shrugged, "What do you want to do? Climb out the window?" Alison looked at it thoughtfully. The brunette pulled the blonde by her hips to her chest, "Not happening, my dear." Ever since she'd announced her wife's name in ecstasy, Emily's hands and mouth had been craving the pale skin. Her hands wandered upward seeking to latch onto those perfect breasts laying beneath only two layers of clothing.

Alison swatted away Emily's hands and conceded, "Fine." She stalked to the door, pulled it open and dramatically motioned the smirking brunette through the doorway.

"Be a big girl, Ali. You did this to yourself." Completely unfazed by the event, she swaggered past the frowning woman.

Letting the door close behind her, the blonde insisted while trotting in her heels to catch up to Emily, "I'm not the one who can't keep her mouth shut."

"Oh please, if it had been you, the _entire_ school would have heard." The brunette noted triumphantly. She swelled with pride knowing that even after eighteen years, Alison still screamed, panted and swore as loudly as she did their very first night.

"What are you saying?" the blonde playfully tugged on a belt loop on the back of Emily's jeans, very aware of what her wife implied.

"You're loud. Really loud."

"Are you complaining?" Alison unconsciously bit her bottom lip as a sudden frustration flared between her legs. She cleared her throat and her head as fantasies of Emily's solutions to her "problem" played out in her mind. She'd prefer the woman's tongue glued to her clit rather than flapping between her cheeks teasing her about her volume in bed.

"Hell no. I'm just saying—"

"Hey Moms!" a short girl with curly red hair and green eyes framed by black rectangular plastic rims shuffled toward them cautiously. Her eyes bounced back and forth between the faces of her two parents before they dropped to the blue binder and thick textbook tucked under her right arm.

"Hey, Jess," Emily greeted as she joined hands with her wife who'd finally calmed down thanks to her always welcome banter. "Are you here to thank me for getting you an extension on that essay?"

"She flirted with your teacher," Alison smiled. If there was one thing neither of the women lacked, it was stunning looks. However, Emily's irresistible charm coupled with her beauty made for a deadly combination. Straight women, gay women, straight men and two gay men all fell victim to her flirtatious attentions.

"Umm no. I'm not," Jessica returned shakily with pursed lips. Typically, Alison and Emily's daughter spoke with confidence and maintained an almost intimidating amount of eye contact.

Noticing the wavering tone and subdued body language, Alison inquired, "Honey. What's wrong?"

Jessica buzzed her lips, groaned and swallowed hard before opening her mouth. "So." Her words failed her. After clearing her throat and looking up at the concerned women, she said, "So that _thing_ that just happened, can it please never happen again? Like ever."

"Oh dear god," Alison's face, riddled with embarrassment, turned beat red and she buried her face in her hands. The day she dreaded all these years had finally come. It greeted her with mocking laughter and hisses of heckling.

"Whaaaatttt?" Emily drew out the word in an annoyingly high pitched tone and then asked, "What are you talking about? We weren't in the bathroom."

With an eyebrow shooting up in the air, the redhead deadpanned, "You said her name, Mom. And," she concluded pointedly, "I didn't say the bathroom."

"Oh." Emily's eyes darted back and forth. "Well. Shit."

"We're so sorry," Alison apologized as her fingers slid down her face. "And Em, watch your mouth."

"Please!" their daughter said waving her hands as if to waft her mother's words out of the air, "Don't talk about mouths or hands." She added after a pause, "Or anything at all. Just don't."

"There were no mouths," Emily offered offhandedly, clearly forgetting her audience.

"Emily!" Alison yelped backhanding her wife on the shoulder.

"God," Jessica groaned with a shaking head, "I got adopted into the wrong family."

"Oh please," Emily scoffed, "You love us." Her eyes twinkled as the redhead shuddered with distaste stemming from hearing one parent moan the name of the other. She'd grown from a meek four year old they adopted out of foster care into a young woman imprinted with some of the best and worst qualities of both of her mothers and a hint of Spencer Cavanaugh.

"Not when you two are… ahem… in my high school bathroom," the girl noted pushing her glasses further up her nose.

"It won't happen again," Alison reached out a hand to reassure her. "We're sorry."

Jessica dodged and exclaimed, "Whoa! No hands until you've showered." She clarified, "Multiple times."

Neither Emily nor Alison could think of an appropriate response. They stood silently watching their daughter shift her weight back and forth between her legs.

"So," the brunette mother finally said, "This is awkward."

"I don't know how to end this conversation," Jessica admitted picking at a corner of her notebook.

Emily suggested, "Walking away might work."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll see you guys at home." She spoke the last sentence as she whirled around on her heel and scampered down the hallway.

"We love you," Alison called out to Jessica's back.

Glancing backward, the redhead girl grimaced, "Actually, don't talk about love either."

As the girl rounded the corner, Alison asked, "Why can't we—"

"Making love," Emily wrapped an arm around her wife's back and squeezed her hip.

"We weren't making love," Alison noted.

Guiding the blonde down the hall to another one of their daughter's teacher's rooms, Emily recommended, "Let's just avoid anything remotely sexual. Geeez," she thought aloud, "that includes almost anything. Tasting, touching, laying, standing, sitting, scratching, biting, eating… Uhhh… anything about clothes or lack thereof, beds, chairs, couches, walls, floors, pretty much any body part. Well," she corrected herself, "maybe not toes. Babe, do we like toes?"

"We've scarred our daughter for life," Alison sighed ignoring Emily's rambling.

With a smirk, the brunette ventured, "Yeah. Sounds tend to stick with you more than images."

"Not helping!" the blonde elbowed the woman in the ribs.

"Oww!" Emily rubbed her chest. "Not nice." Alison apologized with a short kiss on the cheek. "Should I be feeling bad about this?" Emily asked.

Shaking her head at her wife's thoughtlessness, Alison replied, "This is why they say I'm the nice mom."

"What?" Emily stopped. "That's rude! Trevor says that too?" The smile she received in response answered the question. With a sigh, Emily pouted, "Are you also their favorite?"

"Probably."

"I think I'm going to go recant my overstated compliments that helped out Jess," Emily decided. She'd think about how to punish her son later. "I didn't really like her teacher's shirt. Turquoise doesn't look good with her skin."

"It was more of an aqua," Alison replied.

"_You're_ more of an aqua," Emily shot back at her wife's correction. They rarely made it through an entire day without Alison amending one of Emily's benign comments. Obviously, the brunette responded with one of the immature retorts she'd accumulated over the years.

"You're beautiful." And Alison typically followed up with a statement of adoration melting the playful tension. Emily smirked as Alison added, "No freakin' way are you doing that. We owe her."

"Fine," Emily conceded. "Maybe I'll buy her that pony she wanted."

Alison snorted, "That was eleven years ago when she was five."

"Oh," Emily nodded and tapped a finger on her lips as the strolled down the hallway. "A car?"

Laughing at the brunette's outrageous suggestion, Alison reminded, "She already has a car."

"Yeah," Emily scoffed. "A clunker that I used to drive."

"It wasn't a clunker when you drove it," the blonde noted. "Think smaller." Alison felt her wife vibrate with inaudible laughter, "Why are you laughing?"

Emily sighed with a grin as she mused, "It's the only thing she's going to hear for days."

"God, you're horrible," Alison said. While she shared hints of the brunette's amusement, it also turned her stomach to think of her name echoing around in her child's head. That was the last time she'd drag her ravishing wife into a bathroom, well, until the next time.

When they neared the door of the room, Emily grazed her fingers along Alison's back as stepped in front of the blonde and asked, "Did I say thank you?"

"For what?"

With a conniving smirk and suggestive tone, the brunette leaned forward and whispered into her wife's ear, "Making me come."

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><p><strong>Whew. Now I've had my happy fix. I hope you guys enjoyed it.<strong>


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